


I will not tire of you

by Lestradesexwife



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Asthmatic Steve Rogers, Cold Weather, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Tight Spaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 03:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14227827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: I've been watching Winter Soldier and Civil War on repeat for a couple weeks now and there's a lot going on. But I googled Rockaway beach and Brooklyn. In modern times and traffic conditions it would take about an hour to get from Rockaway to Vinegar Hill. It could be argued that with pre-war traffic it would take less time but anything approaching an hour in the back of a freezer truck would be VERY BAD for tiny!steve so I had an emotion. Which i felt the need to share with ya'll. I'd apologize but i'm not that sorry.Steve remembers the freezer truck ride home after Bucky goes into cryo.





	I will not tire of you

_“Do you remember when we rode home from Rockaway beach in the back of the freezer truck?”_

__

__

_Steve stares out over the lush forests of Wakanda. And he remembers that, remembers Dot and Bucky. Dot’s friend who had smiled at Steve when they’d been introduced, but hadn’t offered her hand for him to shake. Remembers spending the whole day tailing after Bucky and Dot, and laughing at Buck as he tried to win that stuffed bear. Being carefree and warm, not worried about the money Bucky spent on the bear. Soaking in the sun and all the noises._

The girls had abandoned them after the bear. “My pa said we had to be home for dinner.” Dot leaning over to press a kiss against Bucky’s cheek. Steve shoving his hands in his pockets to avoid making eye contact with her friend. The sun was starting to go down and the shadows were cool. The breeze off the water caught in Dot’s curls and she brushed her hair back from her face.

There hadn’t even been a moth to flutter out of Bucky’s billfold when he went looking for train money. They’d started off walking, the lights from the city only a warm glow on the horizon. Steve was the kind of tired he was used to, it was going to take them years to walk all the way home. Steve ground his teeth and fixed his sights on the distant lights and just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

It was Bucky who stuck his thumb out at the rumble of the approaching engine. Turned to walk backwards so that the light of the headlamps lit him up, all sharp lines and dusty shoes. The shadow Steve cast fitted nicely under his arm, like he was holding the ghost of Steve cradled against him.

The truck stopped, the man in the passenger side rolling down his window and leaning out. “What’re you boys doing out here?”

“Walking to Brooklyn. Spent my train money on a dame.” Bucky manages to make it sound endearing instead of deeply frustrating, like he planned it that way. “Can you give us a lift?”

“Brooklyn? We can get you most of the way there. But you gotta ride in the back. No room up here.” He pops open his door and steps down, giving them a chance to see the inside of the cab. Only one bench seat and a driver roughly the size of a Russian Bear. 

“Yeah thanks, we appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me, yet. Most of the ice is melted; but it is still most of an hour to get back to town.” He laughs as he unlocks the back of the truck and a cold blast of air rolls down over them. 

Steve pulls himself up into the truck before Bucky can even start to speak, braces himself against the door and leans down to offer Bucky a hand up. “C’mon Buck. If we want to get home before tomorrow we’d better get moving.”

Bucky follows him, but only uses Steve’s hand for balance, pulls himself up using the door for most of his leverage. “You sure about this?” The day has been warm, and the aren’t wearing the kinds of clothes you’d want to be wearing if you were going to spend an hour in the back of a freezer truck.

But Steve has his stubborn face on and he nods at the man to close the door. “Thanks again Mister.”

He just shrugs and pushes the door closed. 

The rumble of the engine is more felt than heard. The truck is insulated to keep the ice cold, but except for that it is empty. A thick layer of mushy sawdust on the floor. Bucky’s skin breaks out in gooseflesh and it is completely dark. There’s a thud of the passenger door closing and then a grinding bump as they lurch into motion. 

Bucky throws his arms out to steady himself and the hisses. The sides of the truck are metal and bitterly cold to touch. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah Buck?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, Buck. I’m good.”

They bounce along in the back of the truck for a minute. But it is so dark, and there are no cues for them to follow, no way of knowing which way the truck is going to lurch under them. Bucky reaches out in the dark, one hand against the cold metal of the truck and one blindly reaching for Steve. “Hold onto me. I think they are trying to bounce us off the walls.”

Steve grunts and flails blindly into Bucky. Bucky wraps his right arm around Steve and holds onto him. Pressing his left side into the side of the truck for some sort of support. The metal steals all of his body heat, but it is better than letting Steve fall.

They stand like that for a long time, and gradually Bucky feels his left arm going completely numb, but he thinks he’s got the rhythm of the truck down now and he can hold onto Steve and keep them both upright. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s breath is warmer than the air around them and Bucky can feel it against his cheek. 

The sawdust is cold and soggy. Spongy from the ice melt. Bucky can feel the cold creeping up through the soles of his shoes. He feels like all his edges are frosting over. Jack Frost painting icicles down his back and creeping along the strands of his hair.

“This was a terrible idea.” Bucky tries to lean back against the wall of the truck, but it is so cold he has to pull forward again.

Steve moves closer, pulling his arms in close to their bodies. 

“It’s fine.” 

But it isn’t fine, every part of Steve that is exposed is cold, the parts of him that aren’t exposed are cold but there’s nothing to be done about it so he just buries his face in Bucky’s shoulder and tries to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. Tries to keep the air he’s pulling into his lungs as warm as possible but even so he feels the spikes of it biting deep in his lungs and he’s not going to have an asthma attack. He just won’t allow it.

He wants to sit down, to rest, he feels like he’s battered and bruised from trying to hold himself upright, even in the half circle of Bucky’s arm. Like the vibration of the truck up through his legs is going to shake him apart. In the dark and the cold, and the mostly-not-quite warm of Bucky’s arms.

Sitting down would be worse. The soggy cold of the sawdust is bad enough around his feet, it would soak through his trousers in an instant and then he probably would freeze to death. He inhales again, with his face pressed against Buck he can smell the remains of their day, the way the sun had warmed Buck’s skin and made him a little sweaty. And only because he’s so close can he smell Buck’s cologne over the heavy-cold smell of wet sawdust.

“It was a good day. Buck, Dot seems nice.”

Bucky huffs out a breath, warm air briefly ghosting over the top of Steve’s head. “She’s alright I guess.”

“Ah c’mon Buck, she’s nice and you like her.” Which is as far as Steve will go with it. 

“Meh, I don’t think she’s my type.”

“Then why’d you spend our train money trying to win her a bear?” Steve pokes him in the ribs to punctuate his point.

“Well… if she can’t have me, she should at least get something for second place?” His grip tightens on Steve as they get thrown around a bit going over a pretty bad bump. “Jeez, you’d think this road would be smoother.”

“Probably feels just fine sitting on a bench seat up front.” Steve lets Bucky hold him close, tries not to be too obvious about snuggling in for warmth.

They don’t talk much after that, just cursing and the occasional “You good?”

They don’t ever talk about how Bucky always throws over girls, even really pretty and nice ones like Dot. He’s always nice about it, making up some excuse or another and then moving on. It is possible Bucky just hasn’t found the right gal to settle down with. That it has nothing at all to do with the pitiful looks his girl’s friends give Steve. And it isn’t like Steve doesn’t know he’s no catch. That the girls probably thought Bucky’s friend would be more like Buck. Not 98 pounds of asthma with a bum ticker and scrawny knees. _Maybe_ someday Bucky will find a girl with a matching sidekick to Steve and they will all live happily ever after. But it hasn’t happened yet and Steve isn’t going to hold his breath.

It is never-ending. The dark and cold, the small warmer spot that Steve’s breathing is making on Buck’s shoulder. The clenched jaw that he has to force himself to relax so he can exhale, and the shivering that follows every breath. The way the shivers merge into the rattle of the truck so that when he stops shivering Buck doesn’t even notice. His arm feels like ice, like it isn’t part of him anymore. Like his left side has become one with the cold metal of the truck.

“Do you remember when Earl Fredericks got his tongue stuck to the pole?” Buck’s teeth are chattering still, and he tries to remember that it is warm outside. Even this late at night, when they get into the city the pavement will be holding the heat from the day still and this will end and they will walk in the warm air again. 

“Frank Evans dared him, said it wouldn’t stick. His ma came out with a kettle and had to pour warm water all down the pole to get him loose.” Steve laughs a little against Buck’s shoulder. Tries to steady his breathing so that he doesn’t cough. Steve closes his eyes and snuggles in closer to Buck, chasing heat he’s sure is supposed to be there somewhere.

_T’Challa approaches like he’s not sure what Steve will do. He’s quiet but Steve knows that he’s making his presence known. Telegraphing his movements so that Steve won’t see him as a threat. Which is hilarious, because Steve is a 98 pound weakling, frozen solid at his core. Even with the air conditioning in this medical centre he’s not cold. He’s wearing a coat and the serum makes him run hot. He’s frozen through and his jaw is tight. He doesn’t remember thawing out, They’d taken him from the Arctic ice and woken him up in a room that was warm and pretend. He’d never had a chance to ask, he’d never even thought about what it must have felt like to need to warm himself all the way through._

_Until he’d seen Buck in a glass tube painted over by Jack Frost. **How many times had they frozen him, thawed him out and frozen him again. Seventy years. “Its best for everyone.”** _

They’d been dropped off, on the wrong side of Prospect park, and it had been dark enough that Bucky couldn’t see how blue Steve’s lips were. The change back to the warm air had pushed Steve into an asthma attack. Buck had gulped warm air like a fish, but he’d rubbed circles on Steve’s chest, trying to get him to breathe. Pushing down the panic while trying to get his bearings.

He’d carried Steve most of the way home, piggy-backed him like they were kids. When they got back to their rooms he’d dumped Steve on the ratty old couch. Pulled every blanket off the bed, brought down the winter socks and extra blankets from the wardrobe, made a nest of blankets and curled into it with Steve. 

Steve’s chest heaved like a frightened animal, he started shivering again and his body fought with itself, wanting to burrow deeper into the blankets to find warmth while the weight of the blankets made it harder for him to draw breath. 

Buck had peeled off Steve’s damp shoes, worked the warm woolen socks onto his feet under the blankets. Buck’s hands had been warm by then, and Steve had made a tiny noise in his throat as Buck’s hands had moved over his ankles. The bright warmth of Buck’s hands against the cold cold cold of Steve’s skin. He’d chafed his hands over all of Steve, trying to rub warmth into Steve’s bones. 

Steve’s breathing had evened out eventually, but Buck had kept up his efforts, hands moving over Steve’s chest and back, gentler now that there was warmth under the blankets. Until Steve sighed and curled up on the couch. Pulling Buck over with him so that Buck was pinned between the back of the couch and Steve’s body, his left arm under Steve’s neck, so many blankets piled on top of them both you couldn’t see the outline of their bodies. 

Steve’s nose was still cold when he burrowed into the blankets, brushing against Buck’s arm. A little surprise that made Buck tighten his grip on Steve, pull him closer into the curve of his body to share more of his body heat.

“I never wanna be that cold again.” Buck says it with his mouth pressed against the back of Steve’s neck.

“Not fair, isn’t even winter.” Steve mumbled, nearly asleep.


End file.
